The Life I live
by Schattengestalt
Summary: Mycrofts attempts to meddle with Sherlock's life, yet again. The following argument leads to an unexpected outcome, when John gets involved. Johnlock. Trans*lock. Sequel to "Foolish Words"


**Author Notes** : This story is a sequel to "Foolish Words" and it will make more sense, if you read it first, before you start with this story. I also have ideas for another part of this series, so stay tuned. ;)

 **Trigger Warning:** Transphobia and transphobic language. Don't read on, if you are triggered by these contents.

 **The Life I live**

It was freeing.

Sherlock leaned back in his armchair and turned the page of the medical book, he had borrowed from John. It wasn't so much the absence of a binder that put Sherlock in such a relaxed state - he was used to its presence by now - but rather the fact, that he could lounge around in their flat, without wearing one.

A smile flickered across Sherlock's face as he skimmed through a report about exotic diseases and recalled John's easy acceptance, when he had found out that Sherlock was transgender. His friend had neither asked any invading question nor had he made cruel comments like most people did. Instead, John had made sure that Sherlock felt even safer at 221B than he had felt before. He hadn't batted an eye, when Sherlock had stopped wearing binders, when they were at home and there wasn't a case on. His eyes never lingered on the small bumps that were barely visible under Sherlock's shirts and - most importantly - John didn't treat Sherlock any differently than before Mycroft had forced Sherlock's secret to light. They still quarreled about body parts in the fridge and John kept on nagging Sherlock about eating and sleeping once in a while. Even their vespertine routine hadn't changed at all.

Heat crept in Sherlock's cheeks, when he remembered how he used to snuggle up to John on the couch, while his friend was indulging in his habit of watching mindless TV shows. These peaceful hours - not quiet, since Sherlock loved to deduce the actors on TV - were always accompanied by small caresses from John. He either run his fingers through Sherlock's curls or stroked his sides absentmindedly and Sherlock loved every second of it. Even more so now as Sherlock didn't have to fear that John would stop if he found out that Sherlock was transgender. John knew and he hadn't stopped and that was just... marvelous.

Still, Sherlock stared at a diagram about the decrease of blood cells in time, without really taking it in, he wondered if John wanted more from him. They had certainly crossed the invisible line of _just friends_ , months ago, but they weren't exactly _more_ as of yet. If John had only started to cuddle with Sherlock on the couch, after being told that he was transgender, Sherlock would have feared that John didn't really see him as a man. That John only initiated such intimate moments, because he thought of Sherlock as... _female._ But John and he had spent their evenings - when no cases or experiments were on - like that, before the topic had even come up. So, what did that mean?

Sherlock furrowed his brow. It appeared likely that John was interested in him romantically and had been for quite some time. After all, Sherlock was aware of the couple of boyfriends, John had had during his time at medical school - a little background research was always recommended - and it wouldn't be farfetched to assume that John harbored feelings for Sherlock, which surpassed that of mere friendship. After all, Sherlock's feelings for John weren't platonic either.

Nevertheless, Sherlock couldn't be sure if John was in love with him. All the evidence pointed to that conclusion, but Sherlock didn't trust his analysis. There were too many unknown variables which complicated matters. For example, it was imaginable that John had been in love with Sherlock _before_ his secret had come to light. He might still enjoy Sherlock's company now, but it wasn't out of the question that John didn't harbor romantic feelings for him anymore. After all, John hadn't initiated anything between them - besides the cuddling - and Sherlock feared that John couldn't imagine to have a transgender boyfriend. Truthfully, John hadn't initiated more than cuddles, before he had come to the additional knowledge of Sherlock's gender identity, but back then it had felt like John was preparing himself to take it a step farther. That feeling - the anticipation, really - had vanished and Sherlock could only conclude that while John accepted him as a man and his friend, he couldn't imagine him as a lover anymore.

Sherlock put the book on the armrest and stared at John's vacant armchair. John was his best friend and Sherlock would never endanger what they had, by forcing his own feelings on him. It would be hard to watch John date faceless women and men, while knowing that their only advantage over him was that the bodies they were born with fitted the gender they identified with.

Sherlock took a shaking breath and released it slowly. One day, he would lose John to a nice woman or man and he would have to pretend that his heart wasn't in pieces. That he wasn't imagining what could have been, if only... No, he had to stop that.

Sherlock growled at the empty fireplace as he shook himself out of his dark thoughts. It was no use to lose himself in the dark paths of his Mind Palace. He had learned early in his life that pitying himself wasn't the answer to his problems. He had become the man he was by taking determined steps in the right direction. Against the will of his family. Despite, Mycroft's threats. Sherlock was leading the life he had always dreamed about, because it was _his_ life and not the enforced imagination of someone else and if that meant that he would never be with John, then that was a price, Sherlock was willing to pay. Never mind that it was a high price, but Sherlock wouldn't change himself for anyone - not even John - and he highly doubted that his friend would even welcome such actions. If John wasn't attracted to Sherlock, because of his body, then John wasn't cruel, he was merely honest and Sherlock could live with that... at least, he hoped that he could.

"I see, you have finally come to your senses, Persephone." The hated voice snapped Sherlock out of his thoughts and he threw a dark glare at his brother, who leaned on his umbrella and smiled down at him.

"I wonder how you manage to run the whole United Kingdom, if you can't even recall that my name is Sherlock," he snarled at Mycroft and berated himself for failing to notice his brother's arrival. He hadn't seen or heard anything of his brother, since Mycroft had all but outed him to John. It should have been warning enough for Sherlock. After all, Mycroft had to be aware that John and he were still sharing a flat and going out on cases together, therefore it was only expected that his brother had taken it upon himself to check on Sherlock.

"I assume the name is rare enough to be considered unisex, but I advise you to choose a more female middle name. Daddy and I argued for _Aurelia_ , but Mummy was fixed on Persephone, so you could..."

"I don't know what you are babbling on about, Mycroft." Sherlock glared up at his brother from his armchair and withstood the impulse to cross his arms in front of his chest to cover the visible bumps under his shirt. "I don't need a female middle name, since I'm a man and I am living as such!"

The glare was lost as Mycroft smiled mildly down at him and shook his head in a patronizing way that made Sherlock want to snap his neck. "Sherlock, I know that it's probably hard for you to admit your mistake - especially to me - but there is no shame in wanting to live as a woman, again."

"Of course, there is no shame in living as a woman," Sherlock rose to his full height and fixed his brother with a mocking glare. "If you are a woman, I greatly advise you to live as one, but since I'm a man..."

"Oh please, Sherlock!" Mycroft rolled his eyes in exasperation and Sherlock wondered if it was worth the trouble to invent a new, untraceable poison to kill his brother. "A man with breasts and... female genitalia. Who do you want to fool? If you really were a man, you would have undertaken the necessary steps to become one. As it is, I only see a stubborn woman, who underwent a hysterectomy, so that she didn't have to fear a pregnancy."

Sherlock clenched his hands at his sides and forced himself to remain calm. It wouldn't help matters if he started to scream at his brother. Mycroft would only think of it as female hysteria and Sherlock was already sick of the prejudices his brother held. "Although it's none of your business, I made the decision to not undergo anymore surgeries, after I almost bled out during the hysterectomy and because I'm comfortable with my body and with how I'm perceived."

"That's because you are a woman, Sherlock," Mycroft drawled lazily. "Look, you are probably angry because I forced you to talk openly with Doctor Watson, but it turned out very well, didn't it? You don't even wear a binder anymore and I'm sure your _friend_ appreciates the female addition to the flat."

So that was what it was all about, Sherlock rolled his eyes at his stupid brother. There he had assumed that Mycroft had just started this conversation out of the blue, when in reality, his brother had come to the wrong conclusions, because Sherlock wasn't wearing a binder. It would be funny how ignorant Mycroft was in regards to gender and gender expression, if Sherlock hadn't had to suffer from this ignorance for the last twenty years. Mycroft wasn't even like Mummy, who couldn't imagine that Sherlock was a man and still talked of him as her daughter. No, Sherlock's brother would have accepted Sherlock as a man, if Sherlock had undertaken the necessary steps to become a _man_ after Mycroft's definitions. He hadn't and therefore, Mycroft would never see Sherlock as his brother, but always as his sister. The only reason, why he hadn't revealed Sherlock's secret to anyone, was that Mycroft feared for his position, if it came to light that his younger brother was transgender. Probably another reason why Mycroft was so keen that Sherlock either underwent surgery or lived as a woman. In case, Sherlock was unfortunate enough to fall in the hands of Mycroft's enemies and they tried to blackmail his brother with the information.

"If you aren't talking about Mrs. Hudson, then I don't see where a female addition to our flat should come from." The clipped voice from the doorway startled both brothers as they turned in union to take in the angry expression of one John H. Watson as he walked into the room. "I don't know what your problem is, Mycroft, but either you finally stop harassing your brother or you will be very sorry, very soon."

Sherlock hated his brother even more for the amused smile he directed at John as his friend stepped up next to Sherlock. Mycroft was treating John like he was just another boring goldfish, although he should be aware of how extraordinary John was. Not only was his friend an experienced doctor and a crack shot... No, he was also Sherlock's best friend and that alone was more than anyone else could have ever said about themselves. If Mycroft wasn't able to see John's many abilities, then Sherlock really didn't know how his brother managed to play chess on the world card, with the planet still intact.

"Doctor Watson," Mycroft cocked his head to the side, wearing his interpretation of a smile that was closer to a grimace from Frankenstein's monster. "I understand from your sexual history that you dated women as well as men, but that you always went for the _complete_ package." Sherlock felt the color drain from his face as his eyes darted from the smug look on Mycroft's face to the annoyed and confused expression on John's. Obviously, his brother knew of Sherlock's... _sentiments_ for John and he was going to use them against him, in another attempt to force Sherlock to abide to Mycroft's wishes. "The bodies of your sexual partners always fitted their genders. Therefore, I presume that you don't care for wild combinations of male and female attributes."

Sherlock bit down hard on his lower lip to keep himself from doing something he would regret later... like whipping the smug smile from Mycroft's face with a well aimed punch. It didn't need a genius to understand what his brother was trying to achieve with his words. He was about to reveal Sherlock's feelings to John, in the hope that it would change everything to Mycroft's liking. Sherlock could see the path of the future, his brother was trying to paint for him, without any idea how to change its colors. Mycroft didn't want to turn John against Sherlock. No, he intended for John to come to the realisation that he fancied Sherlock as well, but that he couldn't be with him, until Sherlock was... _whole._ Undoubtedly, Mycroft hoped that John would convince Sherlock to live as a woman, since it wouldn't involve any surgeries.

The imagination alone was enough to send a shudder of disgust through Sherlock's body. He would never live as a woman. It wasn't who he was and he wasn't going to pretend for anyone. Not even for John, although Sherlock highly doubted that John would ever demand of Sherlock to change. No, it would be much more subtle, just like Mycroft had planned it to be. John would - if he harbored any romantic feelings for Sherlock - start to imagine what could be if Sherlock's body complied with society's views of a man. There would be a subtle pressure for Sherlock to undergo surgeries and if Sherlock didn't live up to the expectations, John's feelings would turn bitter.

A loud crack and a pained scream pulled Sherlock out of his dark musings. It was just in time for him to watch his brother stumble back against the wall, while pressing a hand to his nose. "I suggest you don't presume anything about me, Mycroft!" John took a step towards Sherlock's brother, his fist still raised in a threatening manner. "My lovers aren't your business and Sherlock's body isn't either! That's because it's his body and you don't have any bloody right to tell him what to do with it. And if that's too complicated for you to understand, I'll gladly try to punch it into that thick skull of yours!"

Sherlock almost laughed at the shocked expression on Mycroft's face. His brother hadn't anticipated any aggressive actions from John. In fact, as it appeared, Mycroft had counted on John listening to his manipulative speeches in silence and then acting like a good, little pawn. Maybe, that would teach Mycroft to never underestimate John ever again.

"Really, Sherlock," Mycroft drawled, when he had gained his composure back and pressed a handkerchief to his bleeding nose. "I thought your tastes were better. I didn't think that you would fancy such an aggressive type of man, but since you love danger so much, I shouldn't have expected anything less from you. I just hope for you that Doctor Watson doesn't have such a hot temper, when he is with you."

Sherlock more felt than saw the triumphant smirk on Mycroft's face as his brother turned to leave. Even with a fucking, bleeding nose, Mycroft had managed to deliver the final blow to Sherlock. Not even John was as unobservant as to misunderstand the parting words of his brother and if they weren't clear enough... Sherlock's shaken composure would give everything away.

Sherlock barely managed to stay upright, until he heard the front door downstairs fall shut and then he stumbled the few steps to the couch and sank down on it. His hands were shaking when he brought them up to cover his face and he felt at a loss of what to do, besides sitting on the couch and waiting for disaster to strike. John had learned of Sherlock's feelings for him and no matter how his friend felt for him, nothing good could come out of it. John couldn't want Sherlock the way he was now - no one ever had - and that meant that their comfortable friendship would turn awkward. Every interaction would be tainted by John's knowledge of Sherlock's feelings for him and sooner or later, it would destroy what they had. John would grow sick of the awkward atmosphere and start dating again. He would find someone to settle down with and Sherlock... he wouldn't even be welcomed in John's life anymore, because...

"Hey, calm down!" Sherlock jumped at John's voice - only inches away from him - and scolded himself for it a second later. If he started behaving like that, then it would only destroy their friendship faster and...

"Tea, black and with four sugar." A steaming mug was pressed in his hands and Sherlock blinked down at it, in confusion, before his mind drew the necessary conclusion. John had prepared tea. John always prepared tea, when he felt out of his depths. Or when he steeled himself for an uncomfortable conversation. Sherlock gulped at that thought and then rinsed his dry mouth with a huge swallow of the overly sweet tea. It did nothing to sooth his nerves, but at least it warmed his insides and brought some color back to his face, from the feeling of it.

For countless minutes, John didn't say anything. They sat next to each - close but not touching - and sipped their tea and Sherlock could almost believe that it was just another afternoon at Baker Street, when John's next words broke the silence between them. "Your brother is a total bastard, but he is right about something." Sherlock tensed and stared at the puddle of tea on the bottom of his mug. "I have never dated a transgender person."

There it was.

A raspy breath escaped Sherlock's lips.

His hands tightened around his mug, but he refused to meet John's gaze. After everything that had happened today, Sherlock felt that he deserved the right to avert his eyes. John didn't have to see how Sherlock's hopes crumpled at the rejection.

"I see," Sherlock spoke to his cooling tea. "In this case, I promise you not to bother you with my feelings. Still, if you feel more comfortable if we end our living arrangements, then..."

"Whoa, stop!" The warmth of John's hand burned through the thin shirt, when it was placed on Sherlock's shoulder. "That wasn't a... I wasn't trying to turn you down. Christ!" A wary sigh fell from John's lips and Sherlock glanced at his friend, who was biting nervously at his lower lip. "It's... I never dated a transgender person, because I never met one to date... at least not to my knowledge."

Sherlock waited for John to elaborate farther, but when his friend took his turn to stare at his cooling tea, Sherlock gathered the courage to continue the conversation, although he wasn't sure if that was a good idea. "If that wasn't a... let down, then what did you want to say?"

Their eyes met and Sherlock allowed himself to relax minutely as he noticed his own insecurities mirrored in John's eyes. "I guess," John blew out a strained breath and squared his shoulders as he held Sherlock's gaze. "I wanted you to know that there is a high chance that I could screw it up completely."

Sherlock blinked in confusion. "Screw what up exactly?"

"This." John gestured around their living-room. "Us. I could say something inappropriate at the wrong time and..."

"You haven't said anything inappropriate, since you learned that I'm transgender," Sherlock pointed out, as he didn't understand where John's fear of hurting Sherlock was coming from. John was the only one, who had never hurt Sherlock. Certainly, there was no danger that it would happen now. At least not in the way most people had hurt him so far.

"No, I haven't. But we have only been together as friends so far and if we move our relationship to the next level, then there might be times, when I just act without thinking and... I don't want to hurt you."

Silence.

Sherlock could only gape at John, while his mind proceeded what his friend had just implied. If Sherlock wasn't hallucinating - and he didn't know why he should - then John had just proposed for them to enter a romantic relationship. Sherlock shook his head in astonishment and John's face fell. "Of course, if you don't want to get... involved, then that's fine as well. We will just continue as before. It's just... I thought that there was a chance that you might want more, since... I must have misunderstood something."

"No." Sherlock shook his head vehemently and grabbed John's mug to place it on the table - together with his own - before putting his hand on top of John's. His heart hammered hopefully away in his ribcage and Sherlock prayed that it wouldn't be crushed at John's feet, if he had misinterpreted anything. It sounded too good to be true - even in his own head. It was almost unbelievable that John would want to enter a romantic relationship with him. Like a dream and Sherlock feared that he would wake up in a hospital bed to find himself in the claws of morphine, any second now. Still, if there was the smallest chance that this was true and real, then Sherlock wouldn't allow it to pass him by. Not without a fight.

"I'm not adverse to the idea of being your boyfriend, but I didn't think that... You didn't make any moves, after you learned that I'm transgender, although it appeared like... I had deduced that you had feelings for me, before and I..." Sherlock cursed his own ineloquence as the words deserted him. He always knew what to say, but now, when it was important, he wasn't even able to form a whole, bloody sentence.

"I didn't want to pressure you into anything," John admitted quietly and stroked the palm of Sherlock's hand with his thumb. "My feelings for you never changed, but I didn't know how to express them or if I should express them at all. I thought it was more important to show you that... you are still you to me." Honest blue eyes met Sherlock's pleadingly. "I wanted you to know that nothing had changed, before... Well, before we discussed if there was the potential for change. Besides, I didn't know if you... returned my feelings."

Sherlock took a shaky breath. That was more than he had ever hoped to gain. More than he had ever allowed himself to dream about, ever since Victor had wanted to introduce Sherlock to his parents as his _girlfriend._ The thought led to another, important question and Sherlock held his breath - and John's hand - as he forced the words past his tight throat. "Is it a problem for you that... my body isn't what's perceived as _male_ by society?"

An angry expression passed John's features, but the anger wasn't directed at Sherlock as his next words proved. "I don't know who made you feel like you need to fit in a tight drawer - besides your family - but I would really love to punch them." John's eyes darkened momentarily, before they softened again. "And no, your body isn't a problem. Not at all. It's a part of you." John caressed Sherlock's wrist with his thumb and a languorous shudder ran down his spine. "And I think it's beautiful... You are beautiful."

A hot blush crept into Sherlock's cheeks as John brought his hand up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to the knuckles of Sherlock's fingers. If this was a dream or if he was lying in coma, Sherlock didn't want to wake up, ever again. And if this was real - to which all the evidence pointed - then Sherlock wanted to hold onto it for as long as possible. For as long as John was willing to have him.

"So," Sherlock licked his dry lips and held John's gaze. "Are we going to do this? Being boyfriends," he clarified, when John cocked his head in obvious confusion and was rewarded with a tentative smile and another kiss pressed to the back of his hand. "If that's what you want, because it's certainly what I want, but Sherlock," John gripped Sherlock's hand tighter. "You have to promise me that you'll tell me if I make you uncomfortable. If I use a wrong term or touch you, where you don't like to be touched, in a heated moment. Not that I want to go there right away, but...Mmph!"

Kissing someone was the perfect way to shut them up, Sherlock realised as he sealed John's lips with his own and stifled any more words. He had heard enough to be convinced that John was telling the truth. His friend wanted to be with him and he didn't want for Sherlock to change anything about himself at the same time. It was a dream come true and Sherlock swore to himself that he would hold onto it with both hands.

John's stubble scratched against Sherlock's cheek as his friend tilted his head to the side and nipped playfully at his lower lip. Their noses brushed against each other's and the tendons in Sherlock's neck protested, when he bent his head to gain better access to John's lips. It wasn't comfortable, but Sherlock didn't want the kiss to end. He would kiss John all night long, even if it meant that he wouldn't be able to turn his head come tomorrow.

"You are incredible," John whispered into the kiss and breathed a last peck to Sherlock's lips, before moving away. Sherlock almost protested at the loss of contact, until John urged him to lie down and Sherlock found himself in his favorite position, with his head bedded on John's thigh and tender fingers running through his curls. He hummed softly, when gentle lips caressed his forehead and snuggled against John. "I'm almost grateful for Mycroft's stupidity now," Sherlock murmured quietly as he bathed in the warmth and smell of John. "We wouldn't be doing this now, if it wasn't for him."

"I beg to differ," John murmured quietly and wrapped a wayward curl around his finger. "Of course, we would cuddle on the couch, without Mycroft's interference and we would have figured our feelings out without his... _input_ , as well. We don't need your brother to find happiness. You don't need your brother for anything." It sounded hard and final, even to Sherlock's ears, although he had to agree with John at the same time. Mycroft might be his brother, but he had never understood or accepted Sherlock and the life he lived. It would give Mycroft too much power, if Sherlock allowed himself to believe that his brother was responsible for even a tiny bit of the happiness he had found in John's arms.

"You are right," Sherlock caught John's left hand in his and brought it to his lips, before he placed it on his chest and interlaced their fingers on top of his happily beating heart. "I don't need Mycroft in my life anymore. I have everything that I need already."

If there were tears in John's eyes, when he breathed a brief kiss to his lips, then Sherlock didn't mention them as his own gaze was blurred when he pressed his face into John's wool clad jumper and felt his friend's arms come up around him.

"I'll never let you go again." John's words pulled the corners of his lips upwards as Sherlock nodded against his jumper. "That's perfectly... acceptable," he consented to John's plan and pulled a laughter from his friend.

"God, you are perfect." John's hand resumed its gentle movement through messy curls and Sherlock closed his eyes in utter contentment. The memory of every tender caress was stored away in an extra wing of his Mind Palace, which would be filled to the brink in no time at all, if Sherlock was to trust his feelings and John. And trust, he did.


End file.
